Perils of a Public SpeakerA public speaker's lot is not an easy one to bear,
There's many a slip twixt thought and lip which takes him unaware,
For the ablest chap will meet a trap he never dreamed was there.
From year to year uncounted queer and startling things have sprung
All unforeseen, where I have been, to trip my halting tongue;
I've stood in state, compelled to wait, while parents spanked their young.
But last July, I'll vow that I met my extremest fate,
In church I stood, with all the good, a moment to orate,
With one brave swoop I looped the loop with their collection plate.
I did not know it stood below and just within my reach,
My only thought was what I ought to mention in my speech.
I flicked my hand. You understand, that gesture was a peach!
Direct and straight I caught that plate beneath its velvet chin,
The nickels flew as nickels do, the dimes went rolling in
The furnace pipe. Oh, cruel swipe, which started such a din!
That goodly coin went down to join perdition's blazing coals,
While much concerned I stood and learned how far a quarter rolls.
I lost the speech, designed to reach those panting, thirsty souls.
With one fell crash, I knocked that cash right back from whence it came;
The parson sighed, the warden cried, my cheeks grew red with shame.
The children fought for dimes. They thought it was a scrambling game.
At times I've had some moments sad, some cruel pranks of fate,
But never quite so grim a plight, I venture now to state,
As when in church, from off its perch, I knocked that money plate.
(Edgar A. Guest)
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